Groceries
by akeleven
Summary: Nottingham is taking care of Sara. Has he gone too far?
1. Chapter 1

Nottingham is taking care of Sara. Has he gone too far?  
  
Standard disclaimers apply.  
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Sara came home from a long day at work. What a day - bizarre cases, uncooperative witnesses, Dante yelling. And Danny took the day off to take his kid for braces.   
  
She was looking forward to laying on the couch, eating frozen yogurt, and watching something that would take her mind off this insane world - "Farscape".  
  
As she approached her apartment door the Witchblade signaled an intruder. Mentally she braced for trouble as she opened the door very quietly and cautiously peeked into the apartment.  
  
Well, surprise, if it wasn't Nottingham, putting away groceries! Had she caught him unaware?  
  
"Boo!" Sara barked. Ian jumped, giving her the first reason to smile that day. She relished the accomplishment of startling the infamous Nottingham.  
  
Ian explained his presence while retrieving a package of spaghetti off the floor and putting away his weapon. "Hello, Sara, I knew you were out of some things so I picked them up." His breathing was already under control.  
  
"Ian, you have to stop getting me groceries." Sara went into the kitchen to look at what Ian had bought. "It's one of life's little mysteries that I've managed to figure out."  
  
"Yes, you are capable of buying groceries but we both know you eat take-out instead of shopping." Ian went back to putting away groceries. He knew where everything went.  
  
Sara looked in a bag. "Salt? I didn't know I was out of salt."  
  
"There is only a quarter of an inch in the salt shaker." Ian explained.  
  
"OK, good choice of olive oil. Thanks. But this" Sara held up a can. "I don't need anymore mushroom soup. I've got a shelf full!"  
  
"It was on sale. I know you enjoy tuna casserole and nutritionally it's better than . . ." Ian was saying when she interrupted.  
  
"Come on, Ian, I've got enough mushroom soup and tuna to have tuna casserole twice a week for the next six months! I probably won't live that long! Besides you got the cheap tuna. It's tastes fishy!"  
  
"Tuna is fish, Sara" Ian said without expression.  
  
"You know what I mean!" Sara growled. "And what the hell is this!!" Sara held up a small cardboard box.  
  
"It's ccmmmms" Ian mumbled.  
  
"What! Speak up! I don't know what you just said but I can read! Condoms!? Just *who* the hell do you think is going to get lucky around here?"  
  
Ian tucked his head down and looked at her with big, innocent eyes. "It's just . . . you *are* dating and you might meet someone and you might . . . want to . . . " He resorted to mumbling again. "Remember the first time with your last lover . . . you didn't have anything and you were lucky . . ."  
  
"OK, OK, that's it!" Sara was getting as red as Dante did when he was at his best.   
  
"Get out! And take your condoms with you!" She threw the box at Ian's head. "I don't even want to know how you know we didn't use condoms the first time! And I don't even use that brand!"   
  
Ian caught the box easily. He opened his mouth and closed it again as he thought better of telling her how he had deduced that particular slip-up.   
  
And he didn't tell her that the brand he had selected was better suited for sporadic, marathon affairs then the brand that she bought.   
  
So without saying another word Ian left. He was going to have to suspend the grocery shopping for a while or make sure he brought them when she was gone.   
  
Right now he wanted to be far, far away when she looked in that other shopping bag containing battery operated toys designed for the single woman. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ian tossed the rejected box of condoms in a trash bin on the street. He knew it would be found by some homeless person and traded for something more useful, like cigarettes.  
  
He managed to get two blocks clear of Sara's apartment when his cell phone rang. He was so distracted that he answered "Yes, Sir" before remembering that nowadays he talked to Irons in muddy puddles and large flower vases, not on cell phones.   
  
At first there was silence on the phone - perhaps technology was incapable of transmitting high pitched screams of Witchblade wielders? Finally he heard a voice, or rather hysterical laughter.   
  
"Nott . . . Nott . . . Nottingham!!" Sara's voice was strangled with laughter. "You forgot the D cells!!" More laughter. "Damn, I wet myself!" Then the connection was broken.   
  
Ian was a bit confused - he had provided an ample supply of AA and C batteries. He was sure nothing required D's.  
  
Just to be sure he picked up a package of twelve D batteries and took them to Sara's door later in the evening. He didn't yet feel safe facing her so he left them at the door, rang the doorbell, and ran.  
  
Then in the dark of the night, he went around to his usual perch overlooking Sara's apartment. He told himself he was just checking on her safety. No, not anything else. Not expecting to see anything. Nope. And he didn't see anything. Blankets were hanging on all the windows except one - that one faced the kitchen table.  
  
Suddenly the kitchen light came on. On the table was the assortment of toys - orange, blue, and purple blobs of latex and plastic were vibrating, gyrating, and thrusting with wild abandon, until one-by-one they fell off the table. Then the light went out. He could hear her laughing behind the closed windows.  
  
Ian left, assuming the entertainment was done for that night. But when he thought back on what was on the table he remembered 5 toys and he had purchased six - one was not accounted for! He racked his brain to remember all of them so he would know which one she had kept aside - for personal use?  
  
..........................  
  
Two days later, Ian was in the Vorschlag office learning to handle the reins of corporate power when he received a phone call from Security.  
  
"Mr. Nottingham, we have a package that was delivered here addressed to you and marked 'Personal'."  
  
"Yes, have you screened it?"  
  
"It fits the profile of suspicious mail so we x-rayed it - there's isn't anything metal in it."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well," the security guard said nervously "someone recognized the sender; it is a legitimate business."  
  
"What kind of business?"  
  
"It's . . . ah . . . a dealer of erotic paraphernalia. And there's a card."  
  
"What does the card say?"  
  
"'Had any dreams lately?'" 


End file.
